You're Pitiful
by engage thy class
Summary: Lu's unfortunate accident lead to some exhausting life changes.  M for violence, swearing, and possible lemon in future chapters. Don't worry, no OCxcanon.


it`s been a while since i last wrote a new fic; so i thought it would be fun to try out one of those oh - so - popular " OC in the varia " fics i`m seeing all the time.

don`t worry though; none of that horrid oc x canon shit. no offense to those of you who write fanfictions about your oc that represents yourself being mistaken for a boy, but are actually a flat - chested girl who go by a male name or a male prefix, as they are taken into the varia and get awesome, kickass mary - sue powers and the character they just so happen to have a fangirl obsession with falls in love with them and they have a beautiful romance with one another; because that shit is stupid. and i sort of want to hit someone with a brick when i`m seeing this.

i wanted to be semi - realistic with this one; instead of the varia all fawning over how amazingly splendorous my awesome, self - representing oc ( who is somehow attractive but just a chick with no tits, fyi ) is; they`re pretty much all going to fucking hate me. LIKE THE REAL VARIA AND MOST PEOPLE WOULD. 8I ''''' guah.

... but, ignore me being a total dick. you`ll get enough of that if you actually want to read my story. god forbid. the first chapter is pretty hair - pullingly boring, even i, the author, will admit to this.  
it`s just the first; think of it as a boring prologue. with some of it actually being a little bit important.

**warnings and disclaimer;  
**launguage & a bit of violence for this chapter. probablymaybe some lemon in later chapters; with who? I`M NOT TELLING YOU. AREN`T I SUCH A TEASE ~ ?  
MS WORD is down; so i`m sorry for any grammar mistakes. characters are probably a bit / lot OOC. i`d like you to tell me if they are, so i can get better?

all characters belong to amano. if i owned reborn, no one would read it.

* * *

Eyes awaken to the spiral of colors, vivid remnants of summer akin to black streets, bleak sense of life an allowance to the dismal wind.  
Though the dim soothe of crunch beneath feet remains as an omen of death, newly shed trees a harbinger for lifeless states of winter, spread the hue of October colors keepsake of a relaxing smear of orange, stitch bind it to yellow.  
The late afternoon remains peaceful, shadows in gradual take of dead bark's reassurance, sky reminiscing with the feeble wake of sunset as it twins with the touch of the reaper on the dying face of lawns, all surface entwining to the pace of oil and the whisk of a brush.  
Sigh squirms from thin lips, whether from burden heavyweight onto shoulders in the literal sense, or the pause of all motion, world in fast pace to the edge of abandon.  
Journey makes as fast a pace to the fable of an arrival, stop - motion resuming the constant and slow roll as fingers search for the cool grace of copper, string entwining a thin digit as the makeshift pendant is removed. ( More so that the youngster is forgetful and has a tendency to forget such things than the crave for an accessory. )

Small hums trail in the wake to some tune familiar to only self, key sliding with a slight of hesitation into the stubborn lock, form shifting weight harsh against the chaste surface, grunts of taste pleading into long before chipped and aged door, fingers in a gray struggle with turning the key itself.  
A crash to the floor falls near the line of fate as barrier gives way, usual greeting of a creak forged in hidden hinge ripe with age, the mockery of a welcome to the dreary condominium. Yet another sigh, intentions being clear as exhaustion override with a snide clap as bag meets in a toss with hardwood, overbearing weight now the burden to another.  
Body falls in a joke of lifelessness limp to the couch, no consideration given to the matter of breathing tossed aside with as trivial with the impact of face to plush and abused cushion.  
An era of death passes, prompt coming the movement of face as eyes feast the dread of home, deep brown low in contract with consciousness, silently scanning the slender shape of lamp.  
In an effort, form heaves itself upright, heavy steps guiding it to the instrument situated to wall. Hands splay the extended surface, fingers in a premature state of callous strumming pulled corns in the cheap imitation of a professional manner.  
Each sound, be it laughably minuscule, is a ghost of adrenaline's soft impression; it being a break from bearably endless cycle morn to night provokes, each wake a faint remainder of passing before. The familiar presence of a sigh grazes lips in full wake, body stopping its motions in slow effect; more of a pause, if remnant of at all, as stop - motion forwards anew, each strum a relax, harsh press to the chord giving in to soon enough nip the skin in reform.  
Sounds emphasize the loom of the habitat, beings remaining still in the surroundings to cautious strums taken akin to the harbor of silence.

* * *

Orbs lazily glide amongst the availabilities, tongue meeting dry lips in the supremacy of exhausted face, flesh a shape paler than it is used to.  
Fingers instantly make an attack for coveted sweetness of displayed objects, smooth pane of hazelnut in harmony with chocolate, childish tastes and health of little concern, save from a drowsy taste given bone - dry tongue, dehydration marking senses in hand with starvation, own instantly scraping a lukewarm bottle of creamy liquid, tantalizing as it lay nestled in the glass.  
Hands fumble with the mediocre instinct of a wallet, torn edges in clear not a part to be trusted with what little funds are contained within, paper and nickel a trove as it sleeps in the confines of worn velvet.  
Not more than a nod was given in intake with silence of a thanks and gracious allowance to the predictable supplies. Sour expression of the shopkeeper in blue sky path of the smaller form, distaste too apparent to the ragged appearance as it moves away.  
Body nestles in short to the makeshift seat, tip of toes in a friendly meet with cobblestone by an effort, the gradual loss of nutrients taking growth with it in the prompt leave.  
Weak fingers situate the wrapper in quick war, hesitant to accept defeat as the sweet treasure is given to the successful side, silky taste in perfect accompany to tongue, all senses giving joy to the casual toss of milk slithering down throat.  
Body in a casual state, finishing its consumption of the makeshift meal, sugary intake completing a momentary buzz that it provides as every piece is a melting trial to hot tongue, yet stomach uttering nothing but a stifled growl in return. Body in more at battle with the retort of one's own body, that so deprived of nourishment for so long; better is known that such should go passed by, it having been the phase of distraction many times as far.  
But, in disdain, not much more to the matter can be brought up by the dismal state of funds.  
The remains in face of trash are quickly disposed, tongue in wage to hold the sweet find as long as possible, glass bottle bounced gently to thigh until the cry of its last contents are consumed by the journey shy of home.

Quiet footsteps, in a fact, near silent make due with the cold place of streets, city's remain having gone to the dead of night, rural chimes staying in dim to nothing but slow melancholy tune that waves in distance of itself. In a near, it's soothing of the take, position lost in time, a place stopped short of absolutely nowhere, dim lone of streetlights a call form protruding dusk. All sounds gesture the same, not touched with the roll of place in automobiles, nor the irritating corruption of crowding; in all, it is the reputation of peace for the lieu of control, the essence in life of somber carelessness.  
Has it been a cherished memory in the presence to the modern days of life, benevolence once the glow of the era's stop in place of time, now to be dawned as nothing but a strange and empty clasp of the day's lost time, mothers whisking children with stories to stay away from such places, or fatality is soon to find them in a sadistic grin. A legend, after all; but it takes the place of realism in impressionable minds, much to nothing of their knowledge when the point comes to show them all.  
Nonetheless; there is treasure to be found among the rubble of one's memories, gold in the midst of a black cavern, even if it around to one coming covered in the soot of hard work.  
A peaceful call can be taken into consideration as stone looms in wanting gaze, abandoned, yet the inanimate able to call for life to take it once more; possibly the hope a prayer of every disowned form, be it of nothing or the source of life found in the core of a fire.  
Silence remains nothing but its fate after its time comes, the devil a place that takes refuge in the ruin of a motherly estate; have it be that a village, town, in its own is the essence of such, birth to all of people and life that play inside of the warm grasp. Yet, now taken a ragged position as the venue of horror and danger's awakening.

Contemplation croons in mind, swift October torrent melting into the play of navy, sun's grip tight on place of existence, glow in undertake of night's fist, footsteps gentle wake to silence whilst it swiftly mourns into the allure of nightfall, abyssal the steam of overtake.  
Teeth nip at the surface of nails, habitually a nasty omen to be taken, copper tinge making entrance as blood is struck arching over-top the sugar's remain, two in a harmonization amidst one another grasps for, making a lenient pull to the tongue as foreign affairs entwine.  
Observant, as an unusual placement, yet sound a usual partner in the act of perception, to the place of low tap in the track behind; yet all in all a heavy break to the silence. Ghosts of shadows that grasp the ankles, hypnotizing flame that lilts face of niche and takes harbor in the indentations.  
Yet, no one in them self is able to convince such a tale.  
The child's own increase, hollow tap of bottle in crude placement of a beat with each strike it exerts wrath to upon delicate hipbones, a silent prayer in the make that it isn't to shatter amidst the cruel walk of steps.  
As admittance avoids in the bleak placement, there's cowardice behind every movement; every word the mark of fragile state that heats glass to be broken in one swift gesture. And it is nearly sickening to come in conclusion of to oneself; however, truth comes to light, as ugly take of devil's face it may be. 

Eyes resist all claim to turn themselves back, form in desperate plead to cry the owner of footsteps trailing in the wake, legs in a struggle amongst one another in the will to pull forward, shaking brought to nimble quakes that surface blood. Head long have broken free from coherent thought; taken by sting of heart pounding space between all make for sense, body in struggle to awaken the wave of fear in form to icy hands, positioned to kill amongst long stain of neck.  
Nails dig the flesh on perfect cue, trove in tool of vermilion, ink stain torn and together skin; slowly tainted pale bringing the body to stop of all function, one at two the desperate cry, every attainable phase moon in the black of eye.  
Chokes in croons, all in alive the stench of death, reaper's blade warm and welcoming to the back of neck, slow slice the taste of ecstacy while burn the path to forge hell.  
Spinning gestures continue the brutal assault, the comprehension in loss of an arm a slow burn in back of all reality, numb face the Cheshire grin of tail claiming momentum, white of teeth vibrantly stark to the demon of scarlet, one of what has swallowed breaching milky tones.  
Breath remains locked, lost of all its own hone whilst devil withdraws the chest, nearly a hoarse cry finding refuge as bone is prodded to submission beneath vice of the intrusion, eyes in long descent to back of skull meeting black; world in fast - forward intake, relieving air leaving and retreating one to choke until play is put into motion, speed of sense falling into place it writhes, limp beneath every place and feeling.

And then, everything is black.

* * *

There's a hazy abandonment, world in smog blaze of colors waiting to be put into focus, each and every hue an intake coming into the settlement, reality slowly returning in the smoke of dawn, mind marking the omake of shimmering lights, head lolling in atonement, tongue in battle for supremacy to form words.  
"Ooh, you're awake ~ !" Voice, a sudden abnormality the mock of a concerned mother, limp body in process turning to meet eyes.  
Comprehension comes but a slow time away, mind in sluggish race to contact with rising array of words. "Who ... ?"  
"Ah, no, no! Don't try to talk, or you might hurt yourself!"  
In no attempt to take orders, the one situated on the bed takes no heed to the words, abandoning even the price of it being a kindly warning. "What ... Where am I?" Voice comes out weaker than the intent, coherency in swift arrive on the mind's phase.  
Optimal is in quick take to answer, own warnings having been careless on his part, language of the body in clear preparation for a performance.  
Effort in clear waste as the wage of footsteps initiates the call, trepidation threatening the hone of horizontal line acrost the screen holding the heart rate as door is slammed open, rage of figure donned in the translucent red aura enough to have slitted the delicate form into a wide array of intoxication. ( And possibly death. )

"VOIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII!"

Body sinks into the delicacy of the sheets, trace in even to be forgotten as the morsel, forsaken in the burn of eyes that may possibly sizzle the flesh itself, in all a nearly audible sound escaping lips in hesitation to having awaken.  
A soft thanks to God is just as so the moment the raging man turns affairs to the other, injured young one having been cast aside.

"Lussuria, you fucking idiot! You were supposed to buy the damn groceries, and you bring home a fucking LITTLE GIRL?"

"Squalo ~ ! Don't be so loud! Can't you see that _he_ is resting?" The resonance of his tone is childish, more so paying concern to that of the young man in question, who's face sported the worn attire of pure trepidation, having gone pale.

"What the hell do I care? GET IT OUT."

"Whaa - ? Can't I keep him?"

"VOII! It already belongs to someone, you fucking trash! PUT IT BACK."

Having gathered coherent thought among the bickering, mindset in usual normality in the wake; now in complete realization that the fire, plentiful and raging before him, was the face of rash idiocy that faced itself with a mask of intimidation. "I'm not a dog, you know."  
An irritated expression accompanies a flinch of pain, body now having coerced the strength of arising itself; chest cold as it becomes exposed to the case of surroundings, little of it exposed beneath the placidity of bandages wrapped plentifully tight to the skin.  
"You're going to hurt yourself if you try and get up ~ !" Hands play emphasis for the latter to return to the previous accommodations, he but all obliged to follow command into step.  
All place of the louder male miraculously dismissed, in a quite obvious addition to his growing irritation, voice having found solace as hand extends, hilt in satiation with the fleshless malice of a grin, point of blide in a trifle adjascent connection with the thin neck, of so littered with unflattering bruises on its own part.  
"You." Rage quells into the position of a snarl, "What's your name, trash?"  
"Don't scare him, Squalo!" Eyes clad in sunglasses having caught the terrified expression of the unwelcome guest, face a gruesome white as shivers rake the body.

"My name?" A preponderance, as though the question in essence is a slice to state of mind; though, itself is an omake for names on impression, seeking homely feeling of a unique title, no hints able to be given to the reality behind it. "Lucifer. Lu for short."

A snarl in response. "That's fucking stupid."

"Squalo means shark. That's fucking stupid."

In prompt, the scream hereby taken as a touche of sort, Lu himself dismissing the violent nature here and forward.  
"So, if you're done, can I go back to sleep?"

And so marks the place of hell, starting at the ear shattering momentum of a VOI.

* * *

sorry for probably boring you all with this brain - killing first chapter. the parts that may have killed your mind were supposed to be like that. aren`t i terrible?  
i`ll try to be entertaining if anyone wants more.

review please?


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